


Cheap Date

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: Gibbs is Sloane's date for a wedding she doesn't really want to go to...





	Cheap Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolbyrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/gifts).

"I'm so sorry I dragged you into this, Gibbs."

He's not. He's not sorry in the least, not when it means he can see her wearing _that_ sleeveless dress. "It's fine, Sloane."

In an attempt to not stare at her calves while she pulls her shoe on he takes a long and strong swallow of coffee. _Total failure, Gunny._ He just ends up staring sidelong at her legs while chugging his coffee.

She's got one hand on her kitchen counter and the other shoe in her other hand and his gut drops at how domestic the moment seems, how sweet and simple and _every day_. He could deal with watching her calves flex and her back stretch every day. He could watch her just put on a pair of heels while drinking his morning coffee over and over…

It tastes better to the sight of her straightening the skirt hem of her dress anyhow.

A dress that finds every smooth curve of her and hugs it, the wrapped fabric thin and a grayed sort of blue that he likes on her. He can see every flex of muscle as she stands straight again and reaches upward. "Hopefully you won't have to deal with Izzy all that much. She'll be distracted."

He's wonderfully distracted himself. Because he cannot seem to help himself when it comes to watching her stretch up to pull down a travel mug. The whole length of her is a visual delight and he tries to hide behind the cup again, his glance traveling up from her calves to her ass and her hips and Gibbs just rolls his eyes at himself as she fills the mug. Her movements are sure and relaxed and he just notices that she has some of her hair pinned up and the earrings she's wearing spark under the yellowed fluorescent kitchen lighting.

"Frankly, I'm still surprised she's going through with this." She's mostly just chattering, seemingly nervous in a way that puts him at ease. At least he doesn't seem to be the only one. "Izzy isn't the marrying type."

Yeah, he's heard plenty about her '_friend_' from Bishop and Torres, not much of it flattering. He's always been thankful that he was saved from meeting her and when he found out it was her wedding there was a millisecond wherein he had considered telling Jack that he couldn't play escort. The asymmetrical cut of her dress reminds him, with one shoulder bare, exactly why he said '_yes_' despite it.

She pries the empty disposable cup from him with slight force, brow arched as she hands him the full travel mug instead. "You keep drinking every time you look any lower than my shoulders and you're gonna need this to get through the day."

Right, so there was no way of getting through the day without getting caught anyhow. "You look… really nice."

"Thank you for wearing the suit." She punctuates her approval with a soft hand against his chest, the whole of it curling so that she can run the lapel between her fingers and thumb.

"You told me to."

She smiles downward and he realizes that the expression is entirely made for herself and her own humor, not for him at all. She's pleased with him, with herself, with him answering her request. "You usually do what I tell you to do?"

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, _okay_," she laughs. "You always look so handsome in this suit."

He can feel heat prick and a tingle along his ears, down the back of his neck. Her hand is curled into the fabric at his bicep and he narrowly avoids the urge to look straight down the front of her dress. She's pressed so close that he can feel her pelvic bone ride along his hip.

"S'good coffee," he murmurs, lifting the cup between them so that he can take another drink and draw a laugh from her, one that brightens her up in surprised humor.

"Enjoy it," she laughs, pressing away from him. "I added an extra scoop in your honor."

***

"So, what's the play?"

She's distracted as he asks, deftly leaned forward in the truck seat, visor down so that she can use the mirror to do her makeup. _Thank Christ it has a mirror,_ considering. "The play?"

"The story, if people ask? Just friends, just colleagues? Are we... y'know?"

"Dating?" She feels her mouth curve the word into the shape of a smile, watching her own eyes darken in the small mirror.

"In case people ask."

Good Lord… One step forward and ten steps back with this one. _Gibbs is Gibbs is Gibbs, ad finitum_. The smile relaxes but holds as she turns her head, fingers fiddling her mascara closed as she studies his profile.

He's handsome in mid-morning traffic and rich summer light, his eyes thin as he squints at traffic. He's just ever so slightly chewing the inside of his cheek and she notes it with a smirk. There's been a jitter of nervousness on him ever since she had answered her door in a designer cocktail dress and gym socks. For a minute she'd thought he had swallowed his own tongue.

Jack just reaches over the distance between them and tugs playfully at the charcoal colored jacket sleeve. His jaw flexes attractively but he doesn't move otherwise as her hand drops and brushes his leg. "I wouldn't ask you to lie just to save my pride, Gibbs."

"This is the one that got the car off you?" he asks to the side, head half turned but eyes staying on traffic.

She likes that he asks, that he knows the story. She likes the tone he uses, the one that implies he's already defensive of her.

"Oh, it was so much more than just a car."

His eye roll is so exaggerated that it damn near needs its own seat in the truck. "Spare me."

***

The great thing about being a stranger to the two hundred people surrounding them was that he could spend more time focusing on her instead of any one else. Even as she's distracted by the flower heavy outdoor arbor the ceremony was to take place under, even while her eyes followed nearby strangers…

He watches her, just her. Unapologetically and without an ounce of shame, he studies the way her makeup and the sunlight combine to turn her eyes a smooth amber color. Summer brown bottles or amber in the ring his mother used to wear… he’s always soothed by the color of her eyes when happiness or pleasure brightens them lighter. She turns her head back toward the flowers again and he can see her sigh more than hear it. It takes over her whole body as her hands smooth her dress.

"It's gorgeous."

"Just tell me," he sighs just as softly, watching her fingers twist together in her lap as she leans forward. "You're gonna hemorrhage if you don't."

"Vibernum, hydrangea," she says rhythmically, her body slanting slightly so that their shoulders press together, "roses and peonies."

"Expensive."

She just shrugs, nodding minutely before meeting his eyes. "Izzy wouldn't have it any other way."

"Can't wait to meet her."

***

He can hear her groan, turning closer to the sound as she picks up their place markers and searches the seating chart. Gibbs watches her fiddle the cards in her fingers, a brow coming up in surprise.

Gibbs pulls the cards from her hand and taps them against the fancy script on the chalkboard, pointing out their table number while his other palm catches at her ribs. He curves his hand on her opposite side, pulling her closer than he normally would. "You hate being called Jackie."

"_Yes_," she murmurs, obviously annoyed by the likely intentional mix up. "I do."

"And she knows it," he surmises quietly, head turned toward hers as he shifts her closer. Before she can physically fight it he's managed to catch his arm around her waist, his mouth hovering nearer to her hair than before.

"She does."

He notes exactly how many pins have her hair half up and exactly which one he would have to pull first just to start a full on cascade failure. She's beautiful regardless but he just….he likes her hair down and loose. The pins are an unexpected temptation to him. "And this is your _friend_?"

"We have an… _interesting_ relationship," Jack admits, her fingers hooking into the hem of his jacket and pulling as she turns. He'd obviously been too distracted to survey the seating. Let her lead them, he doesn't care, not when his fingers are investigating how soft the fabric of her dress is, how much give it has.

He shrugs, noting the way a thirty something in a cheap suit looks her over as they pass by a table. His palm stretches out farther, spreads more against her waist as possessiveness does something reactionary to his stance and draws him closer up her side. "You don't spend any time together."

"And I like to keep it that way these days." Jack's smirk precedes the way she looks him quickly up and down, pointedly drawing attention to how closely pressed he's gotten them. "Just friends, huh? People are gonna talk."

He feels himself smile and allows it to show as he presses even tighter against her instead of shifting away. "Isn't that the point of bringing a date? So that other people can gossip about him later?"

"I don't know any of these people," she laughs, giving his jacket a quick and playful tug. The taunt is ten times sexier than she'd meant it and he swallows hard on the lump that's set in his throat. "I just didn't wanna be alone, Gibbs."

He near rolls his eyes as she pauses and settles on which chair she wants, setting her clutch to the table. Without question he angles around her and grabs at the chair back, nodding for her to sit. "Jack, you wouldn't have ended up alone in here. Trust me."

Her eyes widen and tint more caramel as she replays the words and understanding obviously hits her, the implication flushing her cheeks as she sits. The smile that takes up her mouth also has her lashes lowering and her head turning slightly but not lifting and it's not all that often he can get Jack to blush, let alone surrounded by strangers. He sits beside her slowly, intentionally making the movements soft as she reaches out and catches the fabric of his jacket - and then doesn't let go.

She's so tactile that it's making his heart ramp faster. It's giving him a half a hard on and if she doesn't cut it out then he won't be able to stand up straight for awhile.

"Not - I wanted a friend. Someone I knew. Like, like a date."

His eyes flick up, hooded and wary. He watches her study his features, watches her look from his eyes to his mouth and back. The mention of a date was purposeful, obviously meant to evoke a response. He gives a slow and intentionally sparked smile as a reward, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. The hand on his arm drops to his leg for balance and everything in him goes hot. Her nose scrunches just before she smiles to herself and every neuron he's got explodes in answer. His only answer is to catch her hand under one of his and hold her close.

It's been too damn long since a woman has gotten up under his skin so thoroughly.

"I mean… I _did_ order you the filet mignon instead of the chicken," she whispers, all sweet voiced and more affectionate than expected. "There was even a vegan option. I'm so good to you."

He grins reflexively as he nods, agreeing as he holds the way she's leaned in and looking up at him. The sudden urge to put his lips to hers is only stalled by the fact that he hasn't been able to move since she had pressed her palm to his thigh. "Well, then I'm getting us real drinks."

He squeezes against her wrist before standing, her fingers brushing off him gently as she replies. "Wanna make it a double, please?"

"Relax, I've got ya."

***

"Jackie Jack, _who_ is this!?"

She hears nothing beyond the squeal of the words, the height of them. Suddenly the entire ballroom echoes into an empty chamber with the exception of Izzy and Gibbs and she instantly feels as though putting them in the same room together is the single worst idea she's ever had.

Especially considering how gorgeous the other woman looks in an obviously couture wedding dress.

"Jethro Gibbs," he offers into her silence as he half stands and also offers his hand. The other palm flattens onto her shoulder, warm and supportive. It stays there as he fully stands and then offers Izzy his seat, instead shifting closer up the back of her chair.

_Bless him_…

It's a few moments before she realizes that they're already filling the silence, exchanging pleasantries. Gibbs enterprisingly mentions the flowers, perfectly repeating the list she had given him and drawing Izzy out into easy wedding conversation. Flowers, venue, catering, music…

At the same time his palm slopes down from her shoulder and curves along her collarbone, fingers at her throat. So possessive, so intimate, she can barely breathe as she turns her jaw nearer to his hand. His fingertips are rough but so carefully gentle as he teases her jaw, tracing her throat. The movements are exaggerated just enough to catch the other woman's attention but not big enough to politely draw attention to, at least not in public.

She adores him for it, for the silent knowledge that she needs him, for knowing that Izzy will be less of an emotional threat if she's part of a pair, their own team. Jack turns her head into the way his palm curls the side of her neck, feels his thumb press into tense muscles as he miraculously navigates his way through dreaded small talk, entirely unassisted.

She allows herself to fall in love with the moment, just the present and the way it's making her feel lighter. Just the feel of his hand and the way his voice rumbles up from behind her as he guards her.

"Right, Jack?"

Damn them both for destroying the moment… "Sure, yeah."

She has absolutely no idea what she's agreed to in the conversation. So long as he keeps touching her she doesn't much care.

***

"You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs as he moves to sit but she sees him second guess the movement, pausing and turning his glance toward the band as he stands still. The height of him is twice as attractive when he’s just slightly leaned over her, still protective, guarding. "Didn't do anything."

"_Gibbs_."

"Wasn't gonna let her steamroll ya, that's all." The smile he gives her as he looks back down over her is mildly self-conscious but verging on impish. He’s so charming at times, most often when he doesn’t realize it, when it’s utterly unintentional. Then again… sometimes he’s ten times as handsome when he knows he’s been a charming little shit...

Regardless, there was no way he was going to allow Izzy to make her feel small. And that was exactly what made it so sexy.

Jack just gives him a squint, a visual push of disbelief as she cocks her jaw at him. She can see his shoulders tighten in recognition of the movement, his eyes thinning just as much as hers. Hell, they were a pair. He matched her too well at times. "Is it? Is that all?"

"If I dance with you can we stop talking about it?"

"Jethro Gibbs just _asked_ to dance. _Alert the media."_ Her over-exaggeration just leads to him rolling his eyes before flicking another narrow glance at the band. His head lifts as he watches other couples dance and she’s surprised to see something that looks like longing on him. Dancing is never something she would have tried to push him into. She knew if it had been her idea? _Oh, hell no_… "This because you don't wanna talk about us?"

"Talkin' ain't doin', Jack," he tells her, his voice rife with frustration, visually and audibly exhausted with their norm. She studies his face as he says it, watches him continue without censure. His features sharpen with his exasperation. She’s surprised by his raw honesty, eyes widening as she watches his shoulders drop lower, hands loose. She would never accuse him of giving up or giving in, but sometimes he gives her an inch. "Tired of just talk."

So is she - and she has been for months now. Why the hell does he think she asked him to be her date to a wedding? She would have thought that she couldn’t have been more transparent than that.

Jack takes in the gunmetal-grayed blue of his eyes, brow arched as his hand tips forward and touches the place where a strand of blonde brushes her shoulder. The tip of his finger follows around it before it draws itself over to her collarbone and she can feel the crackled line of heat he’s making. That same line walks itself up her jaw and she doesn’t stop herself from angling her head into his hand, not when he’s so softly opening himself up to the intimacy. She lets his  
palm cup under her jaw and lift, turning her eyes up to his as he pulls.

His studied silence does nothing but encourage her, opening the space between them. He should know (_does_ know) that she has a compulsion to fill the empty spaces between them, especially verbally. Especially when she can manage to stick her foot right into her mouth... "You wanna _do_ instead of _talk_, Cowboy? You just let me know when."

"Starting now." Three syllables, that’s all, but he uses that specific Leroy Jethro Gibbs tone. It’s the unbreakable tone of voice, the exact one he uses at the end of an interrogation, when he knows for sure that he’s beaten the Devil before him.

"Jesus Christ, _you’re serious_," she whispers as his hand shifts, his gently turning fingertips tracing the curve of her ear and pulling a shiver up the back of her neck. She can feel every inch of her throat flush with warmth, all the sounds around her a quick echoing rush as he tucks her hair back.

"Asked you to dance, Sloane."

"You sure about this?" she asks, reaching up to catch his hand and pause his consistent teasing. Her fingers find the spaces between his and wedge in, forcing him to lace their fingers together as he pulls. The answer is silent but sure, his other hand reaching forward to catch underneath the opposite elbow as she stands.

"Yeah, 'cause I don't wanna miss the slow songs and get stuck doing some stupid party dance. Let's go." He nods toward the dance floor and her attention is drawn to the music, the DJ having taken over for a break.

She leans into him as she listens, a smirk on her as her shoulder presses his chest. His hands have decided they’re not letting go of her and the newness of him freely touching her makes every inch of skin more sensitive than before. The strong orchestral opening of the song makes her smile go twice as wide and she lets up a breathy laugh. "_This_ song? Really? It has to be _this_ song?”

The perennial wedding song gains momentum, the first few measures opening to the first robust lyrics of '_At Last_'... She laughs to herself, enjoying the moment, enjoying how free and light-hearted she suddenly feels.

“It’s a good song,” he answers bluntly, Etta James’ rich and powerful voice backing him up as he tugs at her to follow.

“It’s so cliche,” Jack murmurs into his jacket sleeve, rubbing her face closer to the scent of him as he pulls her between tables and chairs and half drunken wedding guests.

“Sometimes cliches are just cliches because they’re true, Sloane.”

***

There's no mistaking him or his intentions once he has her tucked in close. And there's no mistaking the soothed comfort she feels being cradled up the front of him. His hips are square to hers, one of his arms curling around her while the other hand spreads full and flat up her back. They're dancing, if it can technically be called that… They're swaying, rather, to a song that she loves, despite the ribbing she gives him.

"I'm making this my ringtone," she murmurs, turning her mouth nearer his as he chuckles and just half shakes his head. "Think it'll make you blush?"

"Not much makes me blush," he answers against the corner of her mouth, damn near daring her to kiss him as her arms tighten at his shoulders.

It _is_ a dare. And she's getting there.

But there's no ignoring the fact that he's found the exact fixed constellation of her scars (the sustained scientific position of some of her worst memories) and put his guard hand to them. She can feel the heat of his palm past the stretched fabric of her dress and she has never felt so secure by the touch of one single man. Even her unit, the men she trusted implicitly… She's not sure she could have trusted them (had they somehow survived) with the remembrance of that pain.

The song starts to find its finish and before she can comment he turns his head, nose brushing against her cheek. His arms close her in tighter and the hand at her back lifts to tug at the tips of her hair, teasing lightly. She can feel the short breath he takes as he debates kissing her and it's just before he does that a new song starts, sickeningly familiar and forcing a laugh from her as he groans against her cheek.

"_No_," he mouths against her as the upbeat tune starts in, upbeat and purposely annoying. "M'not doin' the chicken dance."

She laughs louder, reaching back to grab hold of the hand he has at her hip and twisting in his arms. "Let's get outta here."

***

He's bet himself the cost of a six pack that he can get at least three of the pins out of her hair before midnight.

It's a win-win situation, really. Either he's getting the girl or he's getting buzzed enough to feel better about missing her.

And there's nothing sexier than a woman he cares for leaned against his truck as she tugs him in by the tie. Not when it's her, not when she's laughing and linking her fingers at his wrist while the other hand tangles on fabric.

"What the hell are you doing?" she whispers along his jaw, a moan taking up her breath and stealing it as he intentionally traps her thigh between his own.

He plucks the first of the pins from her hair, a victorious smirk aimed over her as she pulls on his jacket sleeve. He puts the pin right in her line of sight, smirking as he cocks his jaw. Jack squints feigned annoyance and grabs it away from him, her other hand idling down the buttons of his dress shirt, fingers fiddling each one. She's got the top two undone and now she's just teasing him closer, tucking him into her playfully.

Seems she owes him another pin if she's gonna keep undoing buttons. "It was always a real date. Wasn't it?"

"It's a _wedding_, Gibbs. Of course it was. _Is_."

It's just gone dark enough for the lights in the parking lot to start kicking on and the timing of it feels somehow miraculous. Especially when the one above them flickers for a couple seconds and then glows. She laughs in happy answer and it's the invitation he's been looking for, the moment he needed to step full against her and kiss her.

He'd been attracted to her since day one, sure. She's a gorgeous woman, beautiful all around. The smaller compact shape of her fits comfortably up into him as he lifts her arms out of his way and curls her close. His mouth takes hers unapologetically, impatient as he steps her pressed between him and the truck. Both palms smooth down her body, the fabric of the dress shifting under his hands with just enough give to prove the tense toned muscle she's got _everywhere_.

She scrubs her palms up the back of his head with a moan, sucking along his tongue in answer to his advance. One of her hands comes forward to brush his cheek and he barely avoids answering her moan with one of his own. She's managed to shift her hips slightly, turned just enough to drag her thigh up against his groin.

He chuckles as he breaks the kiss, leaning her head back against the truck window as she sucks in a deep breath. Her eyes are glossed black and shining as she studies him, her tongue flicking out along her bottom lip. The look on her face is mischievous and half prowling. It's _all_ sexy as hell on her.

Gibbs just grins, fighting to get his own deep breath down into his lungs, watching her blink and let her shoulders lax back as he teases at her hair again. Sexy as it was, the kiss was also another means of getting her hair down loose and into his hands.

Now they're even. Two for two.

He places another pin into her palm and she laughs full and bright along his jaw as he ducks closer. "You ass. You're not gonna be happy until it's down, are you? "

"Take you home, Sloane?" He means _his home_ and he makes sure the tone he uses as he asks implies it. His fingers catch her jaw up, holding her still as he whispers his lips along her cheek. "Need to get you undone."

"Okay," she answers raggedly with a nod, her eyes wider than usual. Her lips are half parted and he can tell her breath is stalled just by the way she's fully paused. He grins, pleased by how smitten she seems and feeling his ears go hot in blushed reply.

"Yeah?" He questions softly, smiling as she nods and holding her close while his left hand reaches for the door handle. "Let's go home, have a drink."

He only has one more pin to go before he can't turn back again and he indulges in watching her as he tugs the door open and offers a hand up. She doesn't let go of his hand once she's in the truck, instead giving his fingers a tug as she motions for him to come in closer.

Her smile is confident again, bright and brash and all Jack. She's energetic and hopeful and he so adores her brazen ability to find her happiness most anywhere. "This is a really good date, Gibbs."

He just nods, matching the soft-eyed way she's looking at him. "If I get your hair down by midnight you're staying _all_ night."

He can't help but laugh aloud when her only answer is to reach up and tug another pin from her hair just to press it into his palm.


End file.
